Wounds reopend
by Pookie Loser
Summary: When a girl comes to New York city to find some she lost she must deal with the fact they are gone. But with the help of seven people she just migth be able to cope and relized what being an East Villager is all about


A/N: Sorry if the story sucks but I'm going along with what I want to write and this is good practice for when I want to write when I'm older. So just Remember:

Keep hands and feet in side the vehicle at all times and do not flame (but constructive criticism is accepted)

(oh and just for a bit of drama I'm not telling you the girls name until the end of the chapter so don't review saying why did you write she and her the whole time)

Disclaimer: I do not own Rent (leaves and cries bitterly)

The subway car was cold and dark. People sat around reading news papers and the newest magazine. A tired scruffy looking man sat in the corner spiting something into a old beer bottle.

"_This is New York" _thought a small teenager in the corner her black hair was in her face and a small brown knapsack rested on her trembling knees . An old lady glared at her as if this sudden movement was distracting her from what every trashy tabloid she was reading. The tried to contain her from tapping her foot, something that had become a habit for when ever she was nervous.

The subway stop and people began milling in and out of the subway car. She hurried to get out before she lost in the throng of people.

She walked over to the stairs that lead up into the world. She wouldn't believe she was in New York until she saw it with her own eyes.

It was almost as dark as it had been on the subway and far more colder . She was glad she had worn her wool sweater .

She looked around at everything before her. It wasn't as glamorous as she had seen it on TV but she was smart enough to no it wouldn't be. She didn't really care for all the "glitter and gems" as her mother had said. She was just here for one purpose. Seeing him.

She didn't have enough money for a cab. And besides sitting in a car all alone with a stranger was not what she wanted to a city she had just arrived in. Besides walking around New York could give her an idea for her next painting.

New York was a beautiful place once you looked at it. Not the way shown on television but in the small things like a man and a women holding hands as they walked down the street or two men in a café having a drink and catching up .

After twenty minutes she slide a piece of paper out of her jean pocket

2056 Mission Av. Tent City

That's where she was heading. And every step was bringing her closer , closer, and closer to him

Mission Av. was right in front of her just across the street and she'd be there.

Her heart pounded and she gripped tighter to her knapsack ,her knuckles white.

Could she do this?

_It had been so long. _

What if he didn't want to see her?

_Why would he ?_

What if he hated her?

_She couldn't blame him_.

It was like in all those cartoons she use to watch with the devil and the angel appeared the person shoulder each showing their point of view. And yet….right now she couldn't which was the devil or the angel.

She reached into the knapsack and fished out her inhaler ready to press it to her lips.

"_No" _she said to her self. She could do this. She was just over reacting of course he wanted to see her. They were related

She crossed the street and headed to the door of the building. She walked up the stair case to the top floor . There was a door .

Her breathing became rash and her chest seemed to want to exploded. She reached for her inhaler once more and than stopped. Now she was defiantly over reacting it was only a door.

She stepped forward and knocked on the.

This was it.

She heard footsteps and sure enough the door slowly opened to reveal a tall African American man. He had a short scruffy beard and wide smile.

"Hello may I help you" he asked looking at her

"Um…um" She stated lamely . She had never been good at talking to strangers."Um hellomynameisPiperDumott Schunard" she said ,too fast for even her to understand.

"Hey Collins who is it" said a voice from in side the loft.

It was a young man in his early twenties with blond hair blue eyes and wide brim glasses.

"I'm Piper Dumott Schunard I'm looking for a Angel Dumott Schunard" She said quietly

If there had been any sound in the loft it stopped at once .Piper looked in loft to she sad eyes faces buried in hands.

She looked at the man named Collins who looked the worst of them all.

"I'm sorry but he's… he's" his voiced cracked a little "dead"

A/N: I'm backkkkkkkk! Sorry again if this isn't the best first chapter but it'll get better


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